Vahktang

Do we only accuse in the RP? Does it have to be outloud, or can we think it? Do we verify here in the OOC? To verify, I accuse: Sinsor => Irvin Bartholomew Muskfoot, Hobbit of The Shire I know being the first to accuse makes me a target, but, considering my history, I'm going to be anyway.

Yeager looked over his animals and belongings. The travel had been fast, his food was lighter, more so since he shared unstingingly with the rest of the fellowship. Now one of their animals were dead. He had feared for a moment it was one of his own. He reviewed thinking what he could and would carry if he only had one animal. Than started as he thought on what he would do if he had to carry on without a pack animal at all. Hard choices would have to be done if that came to pass. Hopefully it would not come to that. But, someone of their fellowship did the poor beast in. The only way. Somebody didn't want the bearer to get to the crack of doom. But which? Probably of the same type. Easier to get along with one's own. Usually. The humans? The Elves? The Dwarves? That walking tree by their lonesome? Not his fellow hobbits, surely. Because why didn't they include him if they did? Hmm. He had been ostracized by his fellows before. They had not liked the alone ways of the hunter. The Muskfoots especially. Very clannish. Just the type to slay a dumb animal in the night, quiet like, to slow them down. Irvin would bear closer watching. Unobtrusively, of course. That was his quarry now.

Yeager looked at the assembling party. It seemed most of the humans had packed simply, the hobbits less so. The less said about what the dwarves brought, the better. He had his two sturdy ponies, one with equipment, one with food, as normal. Linador was making friends with all the horses, and had already done so with his pack animals. And speaking of dwarves... "Now, who's this then," said Frein, approaching, "I didn't see you in the Council." "I was in the back. Yeager Tickle-Bottom," he said. Frein snorted but the hobbits within hearing (all of them) looked up at mention of his name. They knew his families. "Looked like you packed enough," Frein said, looking over the packs, with Baelestimah coming to join him. "Well enough," said Yeager. "No weapons," said Baelestimah, I thought you were a hunter." "I am. Snares. Nets. Ambush. And rocks." "Rocks," said Frein. "What can you do with a rock? Especially against armor?" "Ah, come over here and see," said Yeager, taking the two away. The hobbits tagged along, as did several elves, but stood out of the way. In a nearby open space, bordered by trees and full of grass that came to the hobbits shoulders, he bid Frein to stand at a point and walked about 10 yards away. "Now, take out your weapon." Frein did so as Yeager continued. "Your an enemy, coming towards me to do me harm. So I do this." Almost faster than an eye could follow Yeager whipped out a smooth stone from a pouch and flung it at the Dwarve, hitting him squarely in the hand. "Youch. Nearly broke my finger." "Yes, and that was a glancing blow. Imagine how hard it would be to wield a weapon with broken fingers." Frein wandered back to the meeeting place, muttering "could still kick you, though." Baelestimah held in laughter but was then more serious. "That's all well and good against a Dwarf with an axe or sword. But what about an arrow." "Then I hide until I can get quite close. Then throw." "Good thing we're will not coming up against elves, then. Our senses are quite keen." "Yes, it is a good thing. Good morning, Lady Arwen," said Yeager looking at the area behind Baelestimah and bowing. "Yes, right," said Baelestimah. "I'm supposed to turn around and give you a chance to sneak away." "A servent usually does turn around when his mistress approaches," said Arwen's voice behind him. He turned quickly and started a bow of his own when he saw that his Lady was not there. "You little," said Baelestimah and he turned around. And saw an field empty of Yeager. "What?" He scanned the area and saw the other two hobbits standing there, leaning against each other, whistling and trying to look casual. "Ah, a fair mimic," said the elf. He heard the grass move on the opposite side and turned to confront his opponent when he felt a sting on his hand. There stood Yeager less than 10 ft away, looking at Baelestimah warily. "Do I carry my weight in this party?" Baelestimah rubbed his hand and nodded. "Yea." Yeager strode up and held up his hand, showing no hard feelings. Baelestimah shook it and all went back for last minute pack adjustments and farewells.

I never thought of that. I doubt it would work, though.

I'm still here. I just need time to read & post. Which I'll do Monday. Please nobody lynch or kill me until I have a first official RP post.

Well, yes I am.And proud of it, too. Next person that starts the song 'short people' gets in the ankle.

Yeager Tickle-Bottom Hunter. There is a frontier of the shire, and the Bottom family & the Tickle family have always been on it. Protectors. Scouts. And Rivals. It was decided that a united front would be better and a marriage was arranged. Yeager was the third product of it. Since he had no big responsibilities, he was neither the heir, nor the spare, he took up with the folk who hunted. Game is very important (and tasty), and he learned to throw rocks, and sling with an incredible accuracy. His hunting has taken him far and wide, even away from the shire. Someday he may become a ranger.

I'm in. Traitor Orc anybody? No? Ok. I'll figure something out. That will get me killed in before the first night.

The staff gathered. "With the General dead, what measures shall be taken?" "Sack the city. Death to all the high houses." "Not just the high houses. All the houses." "Military rule." Agreement amoungst some, consideration amoungst others. No one actually disagrees. "And who exactly is to rule," says the General's closest aide. Several begin to speak up and notice the others, then quiet and look abashed. "A council then. A military council." "That is not the way of the military caste." "So we should do nothing over this?" They think for a moment. "A military grab for power without a single individual to command would lead to civil war." These blooded veterans to a a person almost all shudder. "We are agreed then, no grab for power from the military. "We serve the throne, whoever is on it." "Until we get another General." Several smile at that. "Yes, agreed. " "And until that time, we shall be prepared, and preparing." They all agree. "Now, on to other matters."

Once again I don't even make it to the second night. Ah well. My troops will have my revenge. Mwahahahahaha. And you know what I was going to do? Eat with the troops. Every meal. So that if they tried to poison me, they'd poison hundreds. Just didn't have the time. Ah well.

The General strode through the halls, his hoofs clacking on the stone, his staff in attendance making precis reports: troop strengths and positions, supplies, resources, allies and enemies. He heard it all and digested it. The finest military mind of many generations. Here to protect the realm. He liked his position and he liked the status quo. Not having some one on the throne was a bad thing. Chain of command and all that. So many houses, so much intrigue, one of the reasons why he left all this to be in the army. But they kept bringing him back. He stopped and listened and saw a group of the major players talking: Akallabeth - Ciroth of Hendrake Johann of House Wererathe Cid of Tarquin What were they doing together? He'd put his staff on it. Good intelligence is worth it's weight in men. He continued down the hallways, his staff in his wake, his hoofs clacking on the stone.

Someone has to guard the realm. Someone has to actually fight. Not duels, or scouting, or magic, but actual battles. Soldiers in combat. Masses of men. For years the one that has done that has been known as: The General. House of War. He stalks palaces and parties in a demonic form, 8 feet tall, cloven hoofs, big round horns on the head, muscular and bright red. His human forms are those of generals: Zod, Eisenhower, Maximus, Lee whoever is appropriate for the situation. His magic skills are based on spell resistance.

I'm in. Character to follow.

Vinka layed in the snow, as more snow layed down on her. Storm coming, snow flurries were already here. She was smiling. She was no longer in pain. No longer in fear. Those people back at the lodge? Screw 'em. She'd been killed by the police. Coming out of the mountains, half insane from exposue, exhertion, and lack of food and water, middle of winter. No wonder they had been cautious. 'Oooh, he was cute,' she thought, as a police officer leaned over her. She checked her pulse, then, pressed a hand against Vinka's wound, yelling, but Vinka heard no sound. 'Oh, it was a girl. 'Ah well, doesn't matter know.' "Grzl abu frigit garble," Vinka said. 'Great, those are going to be my last words. 'I wonder if I'm making a blood flavored snow cone?' More officers were around her, but she couldn't tell genders, or even numbers. They seemed more shapes than people. It was getting darker, too. 'Though I'd win this one. 'Thought I'd go in the record books. Or at least the papers. Maybe get on ABC news. 'But I didn't quite make it.' Then she did feel something. They were moving her into the station. A twinge turned into agony, then stayed there. It wasn't only physical, but mental, too. She hadn't made it. She hadn't helped anyone, even herself. She only had strength to moan. And the last things she felt was the agony of defeat.

I _loved_ what you did. Death by police after making it out was a good death for Vinka. Thanks.

Hey.Some things are more important than a sister's wedding. ... This isn't one of them. Have fun. Take your time. Give her a hug from us.

'Eight toes,' thought Vinka. 'A girl can get by with only eight toes.' The view was spectacular. The skiing was normally adaquete. Under the circumstances, it was torture. She continued to move forward, as she had for the last dozen hours. 'Sure, those strappy evening sandals are straight out. 'But I can retrain. Still walk normal. Skill ski after all this.' Her breath was ragged. A few hours ago her foot had broken through ice on a stream and had gotten soaked. There was no place to dry it, no place to warm it. And it had gone thru the numb, the pins and needles, and was beyond numb now. She feared part of her foot was frozen. She hoped that two toes was the only thing she lost. She had no more water to drink and melting snow in your mouth in these conditions was a no no. Her throat ached, but she couldn't drink until night fall. 'Guys will still dance with you. 'You don't need _all_ your toes, do you?' She continued to slog forward.

Vinka woke up, tired and shivering. Predawn light could be seen from the cave entrence. Normally, this sort of cave would have been home to a hibernating bear. But there was no bear this season. She slid out of her bedding and began to tie it about her as her clothing, then opened a can of soup and drank the contents. 'Ugh. Tomato. 'Cold and raw. 'Breakfast of Champions. 'Or at least survivors.' She took her equipment and continued on the journey. 'Wonder if anyone is going to be alive when I get back there? 'Or is the place just going to be fancifully decorated with body parts?'

Snooooow Ghooooost. Maybe in later years, the Scoobey gang could come up here and solve the mystery. LOL

'Over this ridge,' Vinka thought. She was tired. She had been going to her room to get her gear and something had stopped her. 'Once I'm over this ridge, they can't catch me.' Maybe it was an elaborate trap. Maybe she was being framed. Maybe that's why they had let her out. 'Not with a snowmobile. Not with a Cat. Nothing. They'd need a helicopter.' Back to her room was not the answer. 'And none of them are good enough to get where I went.' So she had grabbed what clothing she could from what she could find. She grabbed blankets and sheets and the first pair of skis she could find. She layeded the clothing to get as warm as possible. She had a sack of food & water and a can opener, tieing them awkwardly around her shoulders. She had been on the move almost constantly since then, through the night and the day, up the mountain, across the dales, up the mountain more. 'None of those 'skiers' have the patience or the practice for hours of herringbone, and hours of sidestepping, for a 4 minute run.' She topped the ridge and looked out over the vista, the tall mountains, the deep valleys. 'Now, only three more days and I'll get to a phone.' Without waiting to rest, she started down the slope, not looking for speed or technique, but distance. What route would get her the furthest before she would have to begin climbing again. They may think it OK to wait it out, but she was going for help. Hopefully, she could bring it back before it was no longer needed.

It doesn't help.It almost never helps. Mynx, nice taking out of the wolf. [applause] [/applause] And, with no more bullets, no more defence against the next wolf.

"Not dead now?"Or not dead yet?"

Vinka suddenly stands and paces the small room."You don't get it, do you? "We're in the larder. "Whoever is killing them is just saving us for last. "To do horrible and horrific things to us over time. "We're not saved. "We're leftovers."

Vinka hit the solid door with her fist yet again. The room was just off the kitchen and she had good ears. She had heard about Tina. "There," she shouted, "doesn't that prove that I couldn't have done it? I was locked in here." She heard the steps go away. They had finished making whatever they had made. At least this storage room was hooked up to the heating system. She wouldn't freeze. Once the roads were open, this room would be filled with food stuffs. Now, it only held her. She reviewed the house plans. They didn't put a guard on her. They figured the lock and the thick door would keep where she was. 'But who had the key? 'Maybe the person who held the key was the killer.' She suddenly felt sick. 'Maybe the killers are saving me for last. To do...to do...something.' She felt sicker and layed down. I have to get out of here.